Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“He wouldn’t?”
“No.” I crossed my arms and waited for her defense.
“Are you sure you did it right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
She sighed heavily. “Well, all right. Maybe he isn’t the right choice for you.”
“He isn’t.” Then she looked so disheartened I couldn’t help feeling sad for her. “Look, it wasn’t a terrible idea. He is very attractive and very kind to you and I like a lot of things about him. Maybe if we’d have met at some other time in our lives, things could have been different. But as it is, he prefers to be alone. That much is obvious.”
I left her in the kitchen and went upstairs, feeling just as down as Grams had looked. It really was too bad things couldn’t go anywhere between us. Last night had been wonderful.
I stripped off my running clothes and got in the shower, unable to think of anything but Ryan’s hands and mouth on my skin. What was he thinking about today? Would I ever see him again? Why had he turned on me so quickly? Had I ruined it by inviting him to dinner? Were there Rules of the Fuck Fling I didn’t know about? Maybe I’d violated them.
After I got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around me, shut my bedroom door, and called Emme.
“Hey,” she said, sounding a little out of breath. “How are you?”
“Good.” I sat down on the bed. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, I’m just walking into the office. What’s up? How’s Grams?”
“Good. I’m actually calling about something else.”
“What?”
“I had a fuck fling.”
She gasped. “You did?”
“Well, I think I did.”
“I don’t understand. Was there a fuck?”
“Yes. That part I’m sure about. Just not the fling.”
Emme laughed. “Okay. Tell me.”
I caught her up with everything that had happened over the last few days, including Grams’s scheming, the pie, the swing, and the sex. I spared no detail.
“Holy shit,” she said. “Was it that good?”
“For me it was.”
“Then it was. That’s all you need to worry about. If you had fun, then he did. Trust me.”
“Yeah, but if that were true, then why did he run the other direction when I invited him over for dinner tonight?”
“Maybe he’s busy.”
“No. He made something up. Then he said he doesn’t date.”
“Do you think he was just looking to get laid?”
“How should I know? Maybe. And it wouldn’t even bother me that much if that was the case—I was basically looking for the same thing. But why be an asshole about it?”
“Some guys are just like that. They panic because they think you expect a ring or something.”
I sighed. “Whatever. I was able to relax and enjoy sex for the first time in years, maybe ever, so I suppose I should just be grateful for that.”
“Definitely. Fuck fling success.”
“Right. I just …” I bit my lip. I should stop talking.
“What?”
“I guess I just wish it wasn’t over so fast, you know?”
“That’s the nature of the fling, though. Quick, easy, fun, meaningless.”
“I know. But it didn’t feel meaningless,” I confessed. “Not completely, not entirely.”
“Uh oh. Stella, you need to listen to me.” Emme’s tone was serious. “I hear what you’re saying, and believe me, I understand. I was the queen of the broken hearts club for a long time because I did not separate sex from feelings.”
“I know. I remember.”
“You must, because I am pretty sure it was you who hammered it into my head that sex is not love.”
“I know,” I said, slightly annoyed that I was getting my own lecture from my sister. “I’m not talking about love here, Emme. For God’s sake, I just met the man. I’m not insane.”
“Good.”
“I’m just talking about … a feeling of some kind. Like being together meant something. Like it was more than just getting laid. I felt close to him.”
Emme sighed heavily. “A good orgasm will do that to you.”
“You’re right. I’m being silly.” I stood up and realized my hair was dripping all over the bedspread. “Look, I better go. Grams has breakfast for us downstairs.”
“Okay. You gonna be all right?”
“Yeah.” As soon as I stop thinking about him. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
Seventeen
Ryan
I was in a foul mood all day Thursday. Henry was short-staffed in the vineyard and needed help picking grapes for the late harvest wines, so I spent my morning working alongside him, but I think he got tired of my short answers, permanent frown, and general dickishness. After lunch, he suggested I check in with Mack, who asked me to repaint some benches near the stables. It was probably a punishment of sorts, solitary confinement, but that was fine with me.
I finished around four and was cleaning up when Mack texted me to come to his office. After I rinsed the brushes and put away the paint, I headed for the inn, where the administrative offices were located.